


Pushing Further

by alley_oops, jennandanica



Series: A Breath of Home [5]
Category: Actor RPF, Australian Actor RPF, True Blood RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-28
Updated: 2011-09-28
Packaged: 2017-10-24 03:20:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/258357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alley_oops/pseuds/alley_oops, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Ryan meet at the San Diego Comic Con and hot sex ensues. In this chapter, after Ryan freaked out over being spanked, Sam tries something a little different.</p><p>
  <i>"You know how you like being bitten?" Sam says softly, sliding one hand between Ryan's legs, cupping him through his jeans.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pushing Further

**Author's Note:**

> For anyone familiar with the RPG Citadel, this is NOT backstory for our pups in the game. In Citadel, Sam is played as the actor and Ryan is played AU as a songwriter. And then a little birdie told us our boys were going to be at SDCC at the same time in real life and we couldn't pass up the opportunity to see what would happen in another world, with the boys both as their actor selves.

"So, how adventurous are your tastes?" Ryan murmurs, a sly grin on his face as he considers some fresh abalone meat, velvety dark and displayed on a bed of ice at the fish counter. He loves to cook, and it's way more fun to actually have someone else to cook for than it is to only bother with his own dinner. From what he can tell so far, Sam pretty much just likes _food_. But he figures it's considerate to inquire what his guest might actually prefer.

Sam gives him a look and a small smile. "Depends. How much are you considering testing them?"

"All that I can," Ryan mutters for his ears only, but then relents and points. Behaving. "Sushi?"

Sam makes a face. "To be honest, I prefer my food cooked, but you've been a good sport so yeah, if you want," he says, his stomach doing a small flip at the thought.

Biting down on his grin, Ryan studies Sam for a moment. "That's sweet, really," he says, and puts a hand on Sam's shoulder to haul him away from the fish counter. "I'll eat anything," he explains, gesturing at the wide space of the market. "You choose."

Sam laughs. "If I choose, we'll be having steak and potatoes," he says. "Really, I'm good with anything that's not raw meat. Or raw fish, I guess. That steak tartare thing's not bad."

"I like steak and potatoes," Ryan says with a shrug. He leads the way to the butcher's counter and gets in line. "Do you cook at all?" he asks, trying to see Sam's eyes behind his shades. They're trying to be incognito, and so far they haven't had any issues. "Or can I put you to work peeling potatoes?"

"I make a mean grilled cheese," Sam says with a grin. "And I can usually manage a bowl of pasta or toss a steak on a grill, but that's about it." He nudges shoulders with Ryan. "I'm definitely up for peeling potatoes though."

"All right." Ryan can't really help how he shifts into the touch, already gone. It just... happens. "Are you allergic to anything?" he asks, mentally planning a marinade.

"Nope." Sam's grin widens. "You?"

"Nah. I really like grilled cheese, though." Ryan grins back, and a frisson of lust streaks through him. He steps up to the counter and orders two large ribeye steaks, suddenly very interested in the sausage display. Fuck, Sam gets to him. Gets to him fast, and that wicked smile just sends his mind hurtling off to all sorts of places it really shouldn't go -- not when he's out in public, anyway. Heading for the produce section, he suddenly looks over his shoulder like he's forgotten something, using the maneuver as a cover to bump gently into Sam and whisper, "Are you wearing underwear?"

Sam shakes his head, almost imperceptibly. "No. I never do," he says, grinning again. Christ. He is falling for Ryan so hard. "Why?"

Ryan groans softly under his breath. And he falls a step behind, his gaze skating over Sam's ass. _Fuck_. "Just thinking about it," he murmurs, taking a plastic sack and beginning to select potatoes. "Thinking about getting in there again."

Sam raises an eyebrow. "You think it's going to happen again that soon?"

Blinking, Ryan tries to control the intense disappointment that instantly washes through him, his face falling. "But I thought..." he whispers, wondering how the fuck he had totally misinterpreted the situation. "I thought you liked it when I tried to get into your pants."

"My pants?" Sam laughs, rubbing his hand over his jaw. "That's not quite what I thought you were talking about."

"Oh." Ryan's expression abruptly clears. " _Oh._ " And fuck, now he's blushing redder than a fire engine. He turns away, focusing way more than necessary on wrapping a twist-tie around the bag. "No, I..." for some reason feeling the need to clarify, "I wasn't counting on that happening again anytime soon." He's still amazed it happened the first time.

Sam turns to lean against the bins, facing Ryan. "If I promise it will, will you come see me in Margaret River?"

Shocked - by a couple things in that question - Ryan throws him a glance over his shoulder. "I was already thinking to," he admits, looking through the onions. Then he grins. "I guess I should have held out for more. I'm not much of a negotiator."

"Oh, and what?" Sam grins back. "You don't think my ass is the ultimate in bribes?"

"You are pretty good," Ryan agrees, nearly swallowing the words. He cautiously eyes a nearby shopper, but she doesn't seem to be paying them any attention. "I thought, um," he says, trying to figure out how to ask without sounding like a completely ignorant jerk, "I thought in your... you know, lifestyle. I wouldn't think you'd do that." Sam is clearly on the dominant end of the spectrum, Ryan's got that. Dominants bottom?

"Being dominant doesn't have anything to do with who's being fucked," Sam says, careful to keep his voice low, for Ryan's ears only. "I don't do it very often because it's not something I get off on unless I'm really into my partner."

Now Ryan is blushing again, for totally different reasons this time. Desire and fear and something that feels oddly like hope twist together in the pit of his stomach. "I'm flattered," he says softly, then drums up the courage to meet Sam's eyes. "And I think we're done here. Let's grab a good six-pack and go."

"A six-pack?" Sam's grin is back and teasing all the way. "What are you gonna have?"

"All right, two six-packs," Ryan says with a playful roll of his eyes.

It's not long before they're back outside, piling the grocery sacks into his white Toyota. _So sexy_ , he thinks, wondering if it's time to get a new car. It's just that he really doesn't care all that much.

"That was fun," Sam says, settling back in the car, his head against the passenger side headrest. "I'm horrible with doing groceries for myself. I probably spend more money on buying food as I go than anything else."

"I really like having someone else to cook for," Ryan says. "And the time to spend on it."

"You're welcome to cook for me when we're in Aus," Sam says, watching Ryan, wishing they had longer to spend together now. He'd gladly hole up for a week with Ryan - do nothing but fuck and talk and eat and fuck some more. "If you tell me ahead of time what you need, I'll even make sure I get it all in before you arrive."

"Hold up, you don't even know yet if I _can_ cook," Ryan argues with a laugh. "That's awfully trusting of you." He shoots a grin at Sam as he drives.

"Nah." Sam grins back. "I can just tell you're the kind of bloke who doesn't settle for being less than the best, or at least really fucking good, at everything you do."

"Um. Guilty," Ryan mutters. He shouldn't feel embarrassed about that, and he isn't, really -- it's just that Sam's assessment is so dead-on. "But, I just figure there's no point in wasting your time if you're not going to give it everything, you know?" He pulls into his driveway and kills the engine.

Sam nods. "But are you one of those blokes who has to be the best from the beginning? Or are you willing to suck at first and fight to be the best?" he asks.

"Well, there's always a learning curve," Ryan hedges. He pulls the grocery bags out of the car, juggling them to get to his house key. Then he frowns at Sam. "Okay, it pisses me off if I lose. Like, a lot."

"Really?" Sam laughs, relieving Ryan of the bags. "How much? Like temper-tantrum bad-loser lot, or like beat yourself up for hours after lot."

"Both, really," Ryan confesses. "I mean, it's not the waterworks it was when I was a kid, but you don't want to see me when I come in second." He holds the front door open for Sam, checking out his ass again as he walks past.

Sam laughs more and nods again. "I guess what I'm getting at is whether losing just makes you want to try harder or if you give up and walk away?"

"Oh I'll beat that horse until it's dead," Ryan explains. "Otherwise it's a failure." And he does _not_ do well with failure. He rolls out his shoulders and then starts pulling fresh herbs from one of the sacks.

That gets a wry chuckle. They sound pretty well matched although Sam suspects Ryan's a lot more competitive than he is. "Anything I can help with?" he asks. "Did you want me to start peeling potatoes?"

"Yeah, please." Ryan digs through a drawer then hands Sam a peeler. He washes a handful of rosemary and gets out a cutting board. He stands just a little closer to Sam than he really needs to while he begins chopping.

It's much more domestic than anything Sam's done in years. Surprisingly intimate in its own way. "You ever lived with anyone?" he asks. "Who you were involved with, I mean."

"Nah. For a long time I just wasn't making enough money to impress a girl, you know?" Ryan pulls olive oil and spices out of a cabinet, starts measuring them into a bowl. "And then I just got too busy to really sustain a relationship at all. You?"

"Not really," Sam says, peeling the potatoes into the sink, the skins let pool in the drain. "You know that girl I mentioned from last year? The stylist. I kind of crashed with her for a bit but she never cooked for me. Hell, we never did anything like this together." Smiling over at Ryan.

Ryan catches that look, and grins crookedly back. "Yeah, but just think of all the fun you had shoe-shopping together," he teases. "Bet you miss that." He licks a drop of marinade from his fingertip, testing it before nodding in satisfaction. Stripping the white butcher's paper off the steaks, he lays them in the bowl.

"So much. I can't even tell you." Sam laughs, nudging Ryan's shoulder. "You sure you don't need a pair of boots?"

"Yeah, you know I've been searching for that perfect pair of stilettos." Ryan laughs and takes the peeled potatoes from Sam, wrapping them up in tinfoil. He slides all the food into the refrigerator, then turns to the sink to wash his hands. "We should give the steaks a couple hours, at least," he tells Sam, watching him.

"Okay." Sam smiles, leaning back against the cabinets. "I don't suppose you have some clothespins lying around?"

"Clothespins?" Ryan's brow furrows. _Fucking random_. "Umm, no. I have a dryer." He points towards the laundry nook. "Do you want some binder clips or something?" He's got no idea what Sam wants the things for.

Sam nods, still smiling. "Yeah, those should do."

"...Okay. I'll go dig them up." Ryan gives him a last questioning look, but then shrugs and goes. His spare bedroom is basically storage, full of stuff like his surfboard, snowboard, and a ton of books. He opens up a cardboard box full of papers - tax returns and the like - and paws through it until he comes up with three black binder clips, two medium-sized and one small. "Will these do?" he asks Sam, heading back into the kitchen.

Sam nods, taking the clips from Ryan. "Do you trust me?" he asks.

"Huh?" Ryan pauses in his reach for a chilled bottle of water. And he takes a second look at the clips. Then he stares at Sam. "...Yeah," he says with a slow nod. "Yeah, I guess."

"Good. Take your shirt off," Sam says, moving in closer.

Wary now, Ryan is a little slow to respond. He _does_ trust Sam, pretty much. It's just that they've only known each other for a few days, and how can you genuinely trust someone who's still a stranger? On the other hand, Sam's been pretty awesome about everything so far.

"All right," he murmurs, pulling his t-shirt off and tossing it aside.

"You know how you like being bitten?" Sam says softly, sliding one hand between Ryan's legs, cupping him through his jeans.

Ryan's cock starts to stiffen instantly, and his breath catches. Hard. "Yes," he whispers, trying to keep his eyes on Sam's even as he pushes into his touch.

"These," Sam holds up the clips, "are like teeth," stroking Ryan through the denim, fingers manipulating the hardening ridge. "Which means," he pauses, leaning and licking at Ryan's lips, "I can put my mouth elsewhere." His gaze dropping to Ryan's crotch.

Softly Ryan whimpers, and he's horrified by the sound. But _god_. "Yes," he whispers again. _Fuck yes_. He slips his arms around Sam's waist, dropping his hands down to cup Sam's ass and pull him in a little closer.

Sam groans, his own cock throbbing against Ryan's thigh. But he forces himself to concentrate. This is important. "If you really need me to stop, say Sydney. If you tell me no, I'm going to keep going, because everyone says no when things hurt. Okay?"

"What? Oh, like -- got it." Ryan nods, beginning to rub his erection against Sam's hand. "Like a safeword." Even he's not so kink-ignorant as to never have heard of those. "What if... what if I'm going to come too fast? You know, again?" he forces himself to ask, still pretty embarrassed about that time. Hell, all of those times. "Should I tell you to stop?"

Sam sets the clips on the counter and nods. "Hold on. I'll be right back," he says, heading for Ryan's room and his bag and exactly what he's looking for. He comes back, dangling the silicone cock-ring in front of Ryan. "Have you ever worn one of these before?"

"What the...? Where the fuck did you get that from?" Ryan asks, staring. Sam just never fails to surprise him. "And what's it... oh god, what's that for?" he asks, suspicious that he already knows.

"It's to help you not come too fast," Sam says, leaning in and kissing Ryan again. Thoroughly. "It's a cock-ring."

That tongue -- it's fucking hypnotic. Ryan clutches at Sam again, this time curling his fingers in the man's t-shirt. "Okay," he whispers, even as he wonders what the fuck is wrong with himself. Sam simply kisses him, and suddenly he'll agree to anything? _Fuck_. Apparently.

"Good." Sam unzips Ryan's jeans, working his cock free and stretching the ring over Ryan's shaft and balls. "There you go," he murmurs, rubbing his thumb over the head and the drop of liquid welling there, smearing it around the crown before he gathers more, this time bringing it to his mouth, tongue flicking out to taste.

"Oh, god." Ryan stares, mesmerized. So much so that he nearly ignores the shivers crawling up his spine, the ones that keep telling him there is something really wrong here. He leans in and kisses Sam, open-mouthed, trying to lick his own flavour from Sam's lips.

"You taste so good," Sam whispers, tongue flicking into Ryan's mouth again and again, rubbing against him even as he reaches for the binder clips.

Slipping his hands beneath Sam's shirt, Ryan strokes his hands up his chest, warm flesh and hard muscle beneath his fingertips. He's falling under Sam's spell, slowly but surely, and the kicker is that he knows it. But logic really doesn't seem to make much difference right now. "Want you," he whispers, desperate for Sam's touch on his cock again.

"You'll have me," Sam promises, pinching Ryan's left nipple between his fingers, the clip slipped onto the flesh and released into place.

Ryan jolts, pulling away. The clip doesn't hurt, exactly, it's just that... it's just that it's exactly what he fucking wants and he can't believe he's doing this. Sucking in a breath, he puts his arms around Sam again. Offering himself up for more.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" Sam whispers, pinching Ryan's other nipple. "The pain intensifying the pleasure." The second clip released into place.

Shutting his eyes, Ryan grinds down on a moan. He can't look. Can't. Can't see himself like this... "Need your shirt off," he mumbles, hoping to distract himself. Hell, hope? He already knows it will work -- Sam is the most distracting thing he's ever encountered.

Sam grins, biting back a chuckle as he drags his shirt off over his head and tosses it behind him, pressing close again, the clips cold against his chest for a moment before they warm. He eyes the third clip and picks it up. "There's still one left," he murmurs, kissing Ryan, rubbing against him, rough denim against his ringed cock.

"What?" It's so damn hard for Ryan to concentrate when Sam does that, and so it takes him a few seconds to catch up. Then his eyes fly wide and panicked. "No," he insists, shaking his head. "No. No. No."

Sam slides down Ryan's front until he's on his knees, mouth so fucking close to his cock he has to turn his head a little to _avoid_ touching it. "Still no?" he murmurs, licking his lips, one hand working its way between Ryan's thighs, fingers closing around his balls, kneading them gently.

Ryan groans, curling his fingers around Sam's shoulders for support. "No," he whispers, rocking into the touch. Trying to get more, faster, harder.

"Good." Sam snaps the last clip between Ryan's balls in one quick movement, his mouth on Ryan's cock an instant later, taking him as deep as he can manage with one swallow.

" _Fuck!_ " Ryan's shout bounces off the kitchen walls, and outrage boils up inside him. Holy fuck, what the fuck is Sam _doing_? It's wrong, it's fucking _wrong_ , it... "Oh god," he whimpers, his voice strangled. Sam's mouth -- god, his mouth. Ryan's fingers tighten into claws on Sam's shoulders and his chest heaves as he struggles to breathe, awash in dizzy pleasure.

Head bobbing, Sam fingers the clip between Ryan's thighs as he licks and sucks and takes him deep again, fucking his throat on Ryan's cock.

It's insanely hot. The sight of Sam down on his knees, his lips wrapped around Ryan's cock... Ryan growls and fists a hand in Sam's hair. And he decides to get a little of his own back, still burning up about that fucking clip on his _balls_. Holding Sam in place he pounds into him, finding his rhythm and letting ecstasy flood his body.

Sam's not used to this but he goes with it, struggling not to choke as Ryan pounds into him, his own cock hard, leaking and neglected, still trapped in his jeans. Fingers twisting the clip on Ryan's balls a little more firmly before he reaches up with the other hand and releases the left nipple clip.

Ryan shouts, bucking into Sam's mouth. The sudden rush of blood burns, and lust bursts through him -- coming up short against silicone. "Get it off," he grates out, easing back to let Sam breathe. "Either let me come or fuck me."

Sam pulls off completely and rocks to his feet. "Turn around," he says, hands roaming all over Ryan even as he's pushing him to do just that.

Shoving his jeans all the way down, Ryan kicks them off along with his shoes. This is starting to feel familiar -- bending over for Sam. Spreading his thighs. "Come on," he mutters, on fire with impatience and lust.

Sam laughs. "I'm coming," he says, pulling a condom from his back pocket and rolling it on, lube slicked on over the latex. "Don't want to hurt you," he murmurs, pressing himself against Ryan's back, his cock lined up, head working its way past that first tight ring of resistance.

There's still a little lube left over from when Ryan prepped himself this morning, but it's been a while and it's not much. Still, he groans with frustration as Sam slowly penetrates him. "Bullshit," he growls, trying to distract himself from the sharp pain. "You fucking love hurting me."

"Only when it makes you this fucking hard," Sam responds, wrapping his hand around Ryan's cock and squeezing as he pushes still deeper, burying his cock in Ryan's achingly tight heat.

With a yelp Ryan slams back against him. It feels so damn good, hurts at the same time until his mind is just a blur. "Damn it, _fuck me_ ," he snarls, needing to push through the pain somehow.

"With pleasure," Sam murmurs, pulling back slightly and driving in hard, so hard he hikes Ryan right up onto his toes and into the counter, his hand sliding back up to his chest, to the remaining nipple clip, twisting it as he settles into fucking him furiously, nothing held back.

Ryan can't even form words anymore, can't even sustain the desperate bravado. He's balancing on a knife edge, reeling from how much it hurts at the same time as warmth rushes up and washes over him. He drops his hand to his cock and closes his hand around the ring, nearly at his limit.

"Last two," Sam warns Ryan, pulling off the other nipple clip on a rough inward thrust.

This time Ryan fucking howls, pain slashing through him. And he explodes, coming through the cock ring in a rush that hurts more than anything else, and he didn't even think that was possible. His grip is white-knuckled on the counter's edge as he shudders around Sam with a moan.

Jesus Christ. "Last one. Sorry," Sam says, quickly removing the one on Ryan's balls as painlessly as he can, his own orgasm hitting him an instant later as Ryan clenches hard around him.

"Fuck fuck fuck," Ryan mutters, desperately trying to keep his shit together. It's not like before, when he felt like he was losing control emotionally. Now it just hurts, and he sternly reminds himself that pain is something he can handle -- something he has always handled. _Right_. "Take it off," he whispers through a throat gone hoarse, once he feels Sam settling against him.

Sam nods, pulling out, fingers tight around the condom. "Where are your scissors?"

"My... what?" Ryan's gaze drops to his cock - and that fucking godforsaken _thing_ \- and then he whips around to stare at Sam in horror. "My scissors?" he asks, his tone dangerously edged. "You put something on me that can only be fucking _cut off_?"

"Unless you want to wait for your cock to go soft or have it hurt a hell of a lot more, yeah," Sam says, not sure why Ryan's so upset. "That's how it works to stop you from coming so quickly. By squeezing things tight. And I would've put you in one that unsnapped but those ones don't pass through security without setting off the damn detectors."

"Oh god. Oh. God." Ryan scrubs his hands over his eyes, desperately trying to get a logical hold of this issue. "What if something had gone wrong?" he demands, glaring at Sam for one furious instant before turning away and yanking open a drawer. He snatches up a pair of heavy-duty kitchen shears, continuing, "What if you needed to get it off in a hurry? You don't even know where the scissors are!" He takes hold of his cock but then can't make himself put the sharp blade against his most vulnerable flesh. "Fuck," he mutters, and hands the shears over to Sam. "I can't even fucking do this."

"Then I would've used a knife," Sam says, pulling the silicone slightly out from Ryan's shaft and giving it a snip, freeing the still-swollen flesh. "And no, I wouldn't have cut off your cock." He shakes his head. "Do you really think I'd put you in something where I didn't know what the hell I was doing?"

The second the ring is off, Ryan clasps a protective hand over his cock and breathes a sigh of relief. "Okay," he says quietly, thumping his head back against a cabinet. Now that the immediate danger has passed, he's beginning to calm down. "Okay." He eyes Sam. "Do me a favor and just... from now on, just don't put me in anything I can't get myself out of."

Sam nods, smiling. "Okay." He figures he can keep that promise. At least as far as Ryan's cock's concerned. He sets the shears on the counter beside Ryan and presses close again. "How did you like the clips?"

That smile is just way too bloody smug. "I haven't decided," Ryan lies, raising an eyebrow. "And don't think you can just skip the part where you make up to me."

Sam laughs. "What am I making up for? Giving you mind-blowing orgasms? Freeing your cock?" He grins and kisses Ryan.

"How about, endangering my most precious possession? Christ, your ego," Ryan grumbles, setting his jeans to rights before skirting around Sam and pulling open the sliding glass door to his back deck. He kneels down to light the propane grill, still frowning. He doesn't like feeling like Sam's laughing at him. He wants to be petted.

Sam follows Ryan out onto the deck. "Hey, I was just kidding," he says, reaching out to run his fingers through Ryan's hair. "I'm sorry about the cock ring."

Ryan eyes him sidelong, still feeling sulky. "Why'd you have it with you, anyway?" he asks, shutting the lid to let the grill heat up. "Were you expecting to use it on yourself?" The idea intrigues him for some reason.

"I always carry a couple with me," Sam answers honestly. "But yeah, sometimes I use them on myself. Alone or with other people."

Folding his arms across his chest, Ryan leans back against the deck railing and studies Sam. "By yourself?" he asks, not sure he gets it.

"Yeah. Why not?" Sam grins. "Sometimes it's fun to just keep pushing yourself to the edge without going over until you're sure you want to or can't take it any longer."

 _Damn it_. For some reason the image of Sam like that just makes lust curl in Ryan's gut. He doesn't _want_ to be turned on by Sam right now; he's still kind of pissed off at him. But in spite of that he finds himself stepping forward and slipping his hand up to cup Sam's nape, pulling him in for a deep kiss.

Sam moans into the kiss. Ryan feels so good. "Does that mean we're okay?" he asks softly when they come up for breath.

"No," Ryan murmurs. "I'm still angry with you." He sucks Sam's bottom lip into his mouth and slips a hand beneath his t-shirt, caressing warm skin.

Sam groans, leaning into the touch. "That's too bad," he whispers, nibbling at Ryan's mouth in turn. "Anything I can do to make you forgive me?"

Ryan's first instinct is just to shrug off the question; fortunately, his brain engages before his mouth does. For once. "Yeah," he breathes, stroking the backs of his knuckles over Sam's ribs. "Remember that thing you did the other night?" he asks, flushing as he recalls how it felt to have Sam rim him. "You know. When you licked me?"

"Yeah." Sam nods. "You want me to do that again?"

Biting his lip, Ryan nods. "Yes," he whispers. A pulse of blood flashes through his cock, making him suck in a breath. He still aches from the last explosive orgasm. "After dinner?"

Sam grins. "I'd love to," he says, with not one fucking bit of exaggeration.

"Okay." Ryan's gaze drops to Sam's mouth, and it's a long moment before he can tear himself away. "Grill should be ready," he says over his shoulder, heading back into the kitchen to grab the food.

[To chapter six](http://archiveofourown.org/works/266024)


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